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There, if in jealousy and strong disdain
Untimely seeking here the peace of heaven"It is enough, O Lord! now let me die
"Even as my fathers did for what am I
"That I should stand, where they have vainly "striven ?"_
Perhaps our God may of our conscience ask, "What doest thou here, frail wanderer from thy task? "Where hast thou left those few sheep in the wild"?" Then should we plead our heart's consuming pain, At sight of ruin'd altars, prophets slain,
And God's own ark with blood of souls defil'd;
He on the rock may bid us stand, and see
His endless warfare with man's wilful heart;
First, His great Power He to the sinner shews,
Lo! at His angry blast the rocks unclose,
And to their base the trembling mountains part :
Yet the Lord is not here: 'tis not by Power
a 1 Sam. xvii. 28.
Still, sullen heavings vex the labouring ground: Perhaps His Presence thro' all depth and height, Best of all gems, that deck his crown of light,
The haughty eye may dazzle and confound.
God is not in the earthquake; but behold
The flames of His consuming jealous ire.
Hastes to proclaim, "God is not in the fire."
The storm is o'er-and hark! a still small voice
ear, to say, Jehovah's choice
Is ever with the soft, meek, tender soul: By soft, meek, tender ways He loves to draw The sinner, startled by his ways of awe :
Here is our Lord, and not where thunders roll.
Back then, complainer; loath thy life no more,
Because the rocks the nearer prospect close.
Thou know'st them not, but their Creator knows.
Go, to the world return, nor fear to cast
Thy bread upon the waters, sure at last
In joy to find it after many days.
The work be thine, the fruit thy children's part:
TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
And when he was come near, he beheld the city, and wept over it. St. Luke xix. 41.
WHY doth my Saviour weep
Shows it not fair from yonder steep,
Her gorgeous crown of towers?
Mark well his holy pains :
'Tis not in pride or scorn,
That Israel's King with sorrow stains
His own triumphal morn.
b Eccles. xi. 1.
It is not that his soul
Is wandering sadly on,
In thought how soon at death's dark goal Their course will all be run,
Who now are shouting round
Hosanna to their chief:
No thought like this in Him is found,
Or doth he feel the Cross
Already in his heart,
The pain, the shame, the scorn, the loss?
Feel even his God depart?
No: though he knew full well
The grief that then shall be
The grief that angels cannot tell-
It is not thus he mourns;
Such might be Martyr's tears,
When his last lingering look he turns
On human hopes and fears;
Compare Herod. vii. 46.
But hero ne'er or saint
The secret load might know, With which His spirit waxeth faint; His is a Saviour's woe.
"If thou hadst known, even thou, "At least in this thy day,
"The message of thy peace! but now "'Tis pass'd for aye away :
"Now foes shall trench thee round,
"And lay thee even with earth, "And dash thy children to the ground,
And doth the Saviour weep
Over his people's sin,
Because we will not let him keep
The souls He died to win?
Ye hearts, that love the Lord,
If at this sight ye burn,
See that in thought, in deed, in word,
Ye hate what made Him mourn.